It’s strange that I feel like I’m on vacation, especially considering the fact that three of the four citizens of this household are having an extra long weekend. Although I am the unfortunate number four, I’ve got that vacation feeling. This is undoubtedly due to the fact that it’s been a weekend of glorious beach weather, nothing but fun obligations, and the escape of an extremely fat book. It’s also pretty great to only be responsible for my own wee self on Friday and Monday mornings. No rousing of grumps, no packing of lunch, no carpool, no rush, no worries.
I got to spend time at the beach with the lovely Beth this weekend and her bevy of beautiful girls. I brought along a husband, a son and one extra boy, but the menfolk mostly kept to the periphery of our little island o-grrrlz. At one point our two oldest girls ran up from a play posse to fill us in on the story we were to tell if that weird kid in the wetsuit happened to ask: they were twins, but not identical, and all the kids belonged to Beth, including the boys who were down at Secret Beach. Bill and I were just good friends of Beth’s. We high fived at our good fortune and headed off for drinks while Beth bravely single-parented her five kids.
After the beach I dropped boys in various places and then met more friends at a crazy place that served enormous spigoted beakers of cold Japanese beer, then went with Desiree to check out the karaoke place next door. It reminded me of the scene from Lost in Translation when Bill Murray sang Peace, Love, and Understanding, but it wasn’t in a windowed high rise. It was in a strip mall. But still. They had those little rooms where small or big parties could sit around a big booth and enjoy their own karaoke party. We did not partake on this night, but oh did we ever make plans. We also enjoyed cocktails called “mind erasers” that I can hardly wait to reconstruct: absolute vanilia and café patron served in a short glass with ice and strict instructions not to stir. Yum. After a couple of rounds I had no choice but to point out to my lovely friend that I was sitting at the bar in my bathing suit and yoga pants with my hair in a crazy beach knot at 10 pm on a Saturday night. We left begrudgingly. We’ll be back.
The best news of all is that I’ve finally mostly recovered from the plague that has summarily kicked my ass for the last month. Yes, I’m still coughing and yes, I still get winded during rigorous exercise, but I’m
so much better.
Happy Presidents’ Day, peeps. I’m happy for you if you have the day off today, I only hate you a little bit.